


More Than Just Kind

by Anonymous



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Breastfeeding, M/M, Male Lactation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:47:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1590545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One small voice of clarity cuts through the turbulence of his thoughts:<i> well, this is perverted.</i></p><p>He holds himself as still as he possibly can, questions racing through his mind.</p><p>Is it because it's them? Or has he always had this potential and never known, and have the events of the night before just unlocked it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Just Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Unofficial sequel to [_The Milk of Human Kindness_](http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/1213.html?thread=1529789#cmt1529789) on the kink meme.

Aramis is warm, calm, and they are both here, two mouths suckling at his breast; and where it felt just _good_ before, the sensation new and fragile yet somehow completing him, as though he had been meant to create life and nurture it after all, this second time he identifies the hot stirrings of desire low in his stomach.

He groans in surprise and visceral delight, and like dancers in an orchestrated piece, their two hands wrap around his cock in response – he's naked, he notes with vague surprise – and stroke him as they drink of him, familiar and _right_.

Suddenly Aramis feels a sharp jab in his side as Porthos shifts against him, muttering something – and he realises in shock that he's been dreaming.

Dreaming about them touching him while they suckle, and it's made him… stiff.

One small voice of clarity cuts through the turbulence of his thoughts: _well, this is perverted_.

He holds himself as still as he possibly can, questions racing through his mind.

Is it because it's them? Or has he always had this potential and never known, and have the events of the night before just unlocked it?

Did they discover him for a reason, and was Athos right – in finally deciding to tell somebody the truth about his condition rather than lying or trying to explain away, had he been unconsciously seeking this all along?

He has never allowed a lover to touch him like this before, always afraid of what they might discover, and he wonders now for the first time in years if that had been the right decision.

It's only now that he notices the familiar tingling tightness in his chest; and has he looks down, he sees his nipples have started leaking.

He lets out a soft groan. This shouldn't be happening _again_ , not for days yet! Whether it's the dream he's just had or the stimulation of the night before he doesn't know, but between this and the arousal of his dream, and the two of them still in his bed – it's too much.

He tentatively brings a hand to one nipple, and squeezes slightly, watching as a bead of white forms on the tip. It feels different – sore, in a way that he's always found unpleasant before, but now seems to make the feeling of relief only more intense.

Aramis freezes as he realises it's still the same desire he's feeling – and at that moment Athos lifts his head from where he's been rather improbably sleeping on his front, and sees Aramis, lying there on his back with his hand on himself and both his nipples leaking fluid.

It's impossible to pretend this is anything other than what it is.

"So soon?" Athos asks, his voice sleep-rough; and it takes Aramis a moment to find the words to respond.

"It – shouldn't be," he replies, mouth dry. "It should be days yet. I don't know if after last night…" he lets himself trail off, the inference already clear.

"Perhaps." Athos' smile is so faint that Aramis could be imagining it. "Let us take care of it?"

Aramis realises for the first time that Porthos is awake too, watching him just as intently as he had the night before.

Aramis hesitates, trapped for a moment in indecision. His nipples are still tender from last night, and with the memory of his dream still shamefully fresh in his mind, he's really not sure it's a good idea.

It's almost on his lips to refuse when Athos puts his hand to Aramis' nipple and pulls slightly, swiping the pad of his thumb across to collect the droplet that's formed there, as if he can't help himself; and with that movement, all of Aramis' resolve goes completely out of the window.

He takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling as first one, and then two pairs of lips latch onto him and begin to suckle.

Immediately the heady, aching pleasure of it is so overwhelming that he hisses sharply, only just managing to stop himself groaning aloud; and they both stop abruptly.

"Did we hurt you?" Porthos asks, sounding worried.

Aramis doesn't look at them. He can't bear to. As soon as he realised that it was truly desire he was feeling something shut down in his mind, a blank wall of fear against which his way with words is powerless, and he has no more ability to dissemble.

"Aramis." Athos finds his hand and grips it tightly; and Aramis does look at him then, though he's half-terrified of what he's giving away in doing so.

That they are in this situation at all is unlikely enough, but. There is a line, still, and he does feel they haven't yet crossed it.

The fact that what they're doing is entirely off the map notwithstanding.

"When I was a youth, my father engaged a new head gardener," Athos says – and Aramis just stares at him, because where is _this_ going?

"He was a young man, and his wife could not have been more than twenty. She had just given birth to their first child. I thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Even more so when I saw her one afternoon out in the gardens, nursing her babe."

Athos stops abruptly at that, and looks away, a red flush spreading over his cheeks.

"What Athos is trying to say is that we all understand what we're doing here," Porthos picks up, bluntly. "So you can stop worrying that you're the only one affected."

Porthos picks up Athos' other hand where it's gripping the sheets and brings it to his lips, eyes flicking between Athos and Aramis, hot and intense.

Then he winks at Aramis before bowing his head to suck again at Aramis' nipple; his movements mirrored by Athos, only a breath behind.

This time Aramis allows himself simply to feel; and he's hard in what feels like mere moments, arousal swelling in him stronger than it has in years. This time he allows his head to fall back and his eyes to close, concentrating on the addictive pleasure of it, that makes him feel like he's floating; and when their joined hands press against his hardness, pulling him back down to the moment before unlacing his smalls and stroking him to completion just as the last of his milk runs dry, he thinks that when Isabelle lost their child and he was left cursed, alone in the world with only this unnatural legacy of the life he almost had, perhaps his God did have a plan after all.


End file.
